Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1887-03-23


anything you may chance to say" re-
turns Millicent, in q low tone, but with
flashing eyes.
She has understood the drift of her
Cousins remarks, and bitterly resents
them. She may not be overland always
to Massareene, but she will permit no
one else to be uncivil to him.
"What!' cries Boyle, gayly, arching
his brows and lifting his shoulders In a
foreign fashion that either belongs to him
or has been cultivated to a nicely, "you
disagree with me? YOU really think
that our friends extrcmely-er-em-
presse manner, his hurried entrance, etc.,
meant - the -er-the other thing!
Really, dear Massareene, would not
stand that If were you. You look as II
you would like to murder somebody
with light laugh-"that Is the standing
condition of your countrymen, eh? Why
not call Miss Grey outs''
"Dueling is out of fashion, and one
only horsewhips men," replies Massa-
reene, meaningly, with his eyes fixed
steadily upon his opponent
"Oh, but duel under such conditions
that cannot be out of fashion, as 1t
has. never yet come in. Why, not set iti
! Be leader Of It? And q tete a tete with
Miss Grey, even under such equivocal cir
cumstances, might not be altogether
without its charm"
He throws out this last taunt quite
airily-making even slight movement OF
the hand that somehow adds to the ag-
gressive impertinence of it.
Massareene throws up his head, as
though scenting battle, and his face
pales. Millicent, marking these signs Of
coming storm, enters the breach hastily.
~ do think, Grant," she says, glancing
insolently at her cousin from beneath
half closed lids, "that when you try to
be amusing you are the most unpardon-
ably stupid person ever met. Your
Jokes always make me feel inclined to
weep"
ain this instance?" demands he,
quickly, his face darkening and an evil
light coming into his eyes.
"And in every other. One yawns
enough IN all conscience as one goes
through life without being compelled to
do it by those who would fain believe
they stir our laughter. Give it up, my
dear Grant,; comedy is beyond you-the
heavy business suits you better"
A glance Mt he. cousin convinces her
that she has amply revcnged herself. His
brow is rs black as midnight, and his
mouth has taken tho old expression that
means mischief. Massareene, too, has
added to his discontinue by breaking
into gay laugh, that rouses Mrs. Brand
from her perusal of review, as scurril-
GUS as it is just, of q book written by
friend of hers, that she finds Of engross-
ing interest-the review, that is, not the
book.
"What is itF' asks she, looking up in
high good humor. Really, the review
has quite exceeded her expectations. eff
it is anything amusing pray let me hear
it. I have been so put out by very
harsh criticism on dear Fanny Ellwood's
novel that require something to cheer
me- Some little jest of yours, Grant?
Come, tell it to me, though must say,
my dear, you look more like an Othell0
this moment than one born in a merry
hour All, here comes tea at last! Just
move my chair little, will you? Thanks,
dear Grant. am fast becoming an old
woman, eh!'
Grant, is in just such pleasant mood
as urges him to tell her she is already
amongst the frosts and SHOWS Of life; but
prudence-a feeling more powerful with
him -than most others-restrains him.
He is obliged, however, to move her
chair into the exact position pointed out,
and to perform divers other small SER
vices for her with smiling face and ap-
parently willing air, while grinding
under the thought that he is leaving the
other two free to carry on low CONVEX
sation uninterrupted.
"How angry you were about Grants
innuendo just now," whispers she,
drawing her skirts aside that he may drop
upon the low lounge beside her. "You
need not have been. Did you think I
never heard of that one little fiasco Of
yours, ehf'
She leans toward him and smiles lit
tie. The young man starts and colors
hotly. Yet her smile is so sweet, SO kind
never has her manner been SO replete
with gentleness as now.
"You knew-you heard?'-stammers
he.
"Why, yes. Was it such a mighty Sc.
cret, such an awful crime? Did you
think could not condone-forgive"
She is still smiling on him, her beauti.
full eyes riveted upon his. Massareene's
heart is beating passionately. He feels as
if he can scarcely breathe-and yet he Is
breathing more freely than he has done
for long time, now that he knows she
knows, and that after all she can tolerate
him. Nay, it is surely more than tolera-
tion!
"You are an angel" murmurs he in
turn. Obi the rapture Of this whispered
conversation! The knowledge that they
are-if not in body, at least in spirit
alone! "But it was my one offense. I
pray you to believe thatl Afterward I
met you. And then-then it would have
been impossibler'
Her color pales slightly as she looks
into the loving eyes bent on hers. He
has put out his hand in his earnestness
and laid it upon hers-a strong hand,
slightly Drowned, rs a mans should be,
and very handsome. Somehow the
strength of it appeals to her. Isits owner
like it-frm, resolute. He has, ut all
events, been almost obstinately persist
ent in his courtship, clinging to hope
when there was none to be seen any
where, and steadfastly adhering to the w.
lief that "all things come to him who
knows how to wait.n He is waiting still,
though small chance of a reward seems
to be his.
"There," she says, rallying with all
effort, and compelling herself to meet his
gaze, "you are pardoned, If pardon is
what you want"
II want more than that" says Mr..
Massareene, who, having gained what
he had not dared to hope for half an hour
ago, now desires more. 81 want"-
"Of that another day." interrupts she
playfully. "When will you learn to be
wise, Gerald?'
"When I marry you, my sweet Min
erva."
"That will be never, then, greatly
doubt me-"
"Still, there is doubt, you see."
"To talk like this to ME Is waste OF
time.'
"To talk to you could never be waste
of time"
"Not if you talk sensibly."
"And sure what can be more sensible
than to tell you that I love you!" says
the Irishman; "unless it would be your
saying thut you will take me for your
husband?'
"That would mean throwing up friends
and fortune"
"Just sol Then DO it," says he.
What is to be done with a man like
this? Millicent sighs. He is nearer vic
tory at this moment than he knows him
self to be. Miss Grey, glancing involun-
tarily at Grant, and then back again at